


Can You Stake My Heart?

by snailthesaints



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Cancer, Death, Depression, High School, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Illness, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Murder, Past Character Death, Vampires, not tagging major character death because many major characters are or become vampires so like ???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailthesaints/pseuds/snailthesaints
Summary: 18yo high school senior, Frank Iero, kinda wishes he was dead. Little does he know his wish might be about to come true.aka vampire!gerard in which frank gets roped into a murder case and sad shit happens but yay frerard
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. late dawns and early sunsets

**Author's Note:**

> Okay full disclosure, this is my first time doing creative writing in like 2 years so I know it’s not up to scratch like my other fics I’m really out of practice. Just thought, since mcr have properly come back and I feel like I’m 13 again, I’d try writing again and see what comes out. But with that in mind, and the fact I am extremely unreliable, idk if this will ever be completed but I thought there’s no harm in posting what I’ve got anyway and see how it goes down. Just don’t get attached. I really like the concept and I’m kinda excited for where I plan on taking this so if even if I nope out, lemme know if you’d be interested in hearing the ideas behind it and maybe even co author or write it yourself. But for now I will try and complete it haha <3

Frank hated Januarys. His depression always hit twice as hard when it was already dark by 6pm, and any excitement of it being his supposed favourite season offered no reprieve. By this point, his birthday, christmas and new years eve had past, and the novelty of winter had worn off. Confronted with months of cold damp nothing, he would much rather spend the majority of the new year curled up somewhere warm in a benzo induced coma.

It was 11pm and he’d stormed out the family home after a disagreement he’d already forgotten, and was walking the newark side streets in hopes it’d clear his head. His only company was an odd fox sniffing at the litter lining the path, and the echos of his own footsteps. When, without warning, it seemed like crisp winter air itself yanked him off his feet and threw him across the sidewalk against a cold brick wall. He let out an embarrassing yelp and fear ricocheted through him as he felt tight knuckles grip his throat pinning him in place, his bruised body shaking and eyes scrunched up in terror. He could hardly breath, speak, or think. Nonetheless, he pryed open his tensed eyelids to come face to face with his attacker, not a bully from the past as Frank initially suspected, but a stranger in a black hoodie who looked around his age. The strangers face was ghostly pale and contorted with rage, eyes wide, jaw clenched and upper lip twitching. He looked almost monstrous. But as frank froze, he swore he spotted the mans harsh features momentarily soften and worry flash through thick scowling eyebrows. To his surprise the hold on his neck loosened slightly.

“Sorry kid, I- uh- thought you were someone else” the man broke the silence.

Frank could barely muster a reply, as he gasped for air and slid down the wall. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he realised the situation, and his body trying to scramble free. Instead, the man simply held his upper arm tight with one hand, his strength rendering Franks attempts at fleeing futile.

“Stay” the man commanded “Uhm, weird question, are you vegan?

Frank turned to look at him in stunned silence, his fear morphing into confusion. He was in fact vegan, but how on earth did this dude know and why did he care? Wasn’t he supposed to be mugging him or something?

“What’s it to you?” Frank muttered, cockily.

“Just answer the damn question” the man growled.

“Yes. Yes I am”

“Thought so.” the man breathed, twitching as he spoke. “I mean, I’d go vegan, but I, uh, need the nutrients from meat and shit”

Frank blinked, this was probably the most surreal situation to be giving nutritional advice, but he believed in his cause and spoke through his fear and confusion.

“Well, you can get protein from other sources, like, uh, nuts, beans, lentils-“

“No!” the man interrupted “I need- I need- fuck, are you anemic?”

“No?” frank chuckled, nervously.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah.”

“Really, no iron deficiency? Nothing?”

“Yes, really.” the conversation was starting to irritate Frank “Now are you going to interrogate me on my health or let me go?” he snapped.

The man didn’t like that and let out a bone chilling growl, tightening his grip on Franks shoulder, throwing his spare hand into the wall behind them, his fist flying inches from Frank’s face.

“Fuck you- fucking mother- Fuck.”

“Are- are you okay?” Frank stuttered, confused on how exactly to handle this situation.

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m fucked up” the man lamented, before forcing a calmer tone “But you- you got a good heart. I’ll let you go. Just don’t tell anyone this ever happened. I didn’t mean to scare you, you’re just not what I was looking for. My bad.” 

Frank almost fell as he felt the mans powerful grip vanish. 

The taller figure paused.

“And take a fucking multivitamin.” he added, and with that turned on his heel and silently bolted into an alley way, faster than frank had ever seen a person run before.

“O-okay” frank eventually murmured, gazing at the spot where the bizarre attacker had stood just seconds previously. Hardly able to gather his thoughts, he snapped out his stunned stupor and sprinted down the street in the opposite direction, heart pounding, chest tight, and to his shame tears of terror and bewilderment began streaming down his face. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

When he finally arrived home, he ran straight upstairs, shutting all the doors behind him and collapsed into his bed, exhausted.

“Nice to see you too” his mom yelled up the stairs, sarcastically.

Frank didn’t bother to reply, his mind still struggling to function. He thought over everything: how it happened so suddenly he felt like he’d been swept of his feet by thin air itself, how the man seemed faster and stronger than he could ever be, how how his hazel eyed icey glare felt like daggers through his soul, simultaneously carrying so much hatred and anger yet pain and sadness, how Frank felt so terrified and helpless, at what this person could’ve done to him. Eventually, he fell asleep in the clothes he’d been wearing that day, physically and mentally drained but still replaying the events of the night.

—-

Frank’s mom woke him up for school the following morning, but of course it took 4 tries and a lot of yelling, so as usual he was running late. His mood that day was numb. His experience the night before felt like a dream, and he was preoccupied with rushing round the house and throwing clothes on to think about it too much.

It wasn’t until he was on the bus, gazing out the window at the gray streets he let his mind wander. He people watched, taking note of the homelessness problem in this place, it seemed every other bus stop in this town had a poor soul sitting nearby on a piece of cardboard with a stained coat and a back pack. Plus a few folks staggering up the street, likely still high or drunk from the night before, or on a comedown. He also watched with contempt the teenagers at the front of the bus, playing trap music through iphone speakers loud enough for him to hear over his broken earbuds and yelling at one another in a tone Frank couldn’t quite decipher as zealous friendliness, genuine anger, or both. Of course, everyone else kept to themselves, a few millennials probably on their way to work watching netflix on their phones, old ladies probably headed to bingo reading books or making quiet conversation, most people just caught up in their daily routine, focused on their own life. Except of course, for the police cars whizzing by with sirens blaring every so often, and he wondered who they were headed to.

The more he thought about it, the less strange the attack felt. At the end of the day, he lived in New Jersey, he was bound to get in a scuffle at some point. The man was probably an addict looking for his next hit, some gangster playing mind games with the wrong person or a mentally ill person who would’ve been scooped up and put on psychiatric hold by now. Sure some things seemed weird, but he concluded it was probably his own memory warping the events and the world was a weird place anyway. He should probably focus on thinking up a good excuse for his lateness.


	2. the perfect victim

“Good day at school sweetie?” Franks mother chirped as he walked into their magnolia hallway.

“Yeah” Frank murmured. His day had been mediocre. For a while he had been intensely bullied, specifically throughout middle school and his freshman year of high school. Now he was a senior, the bullies seemed to have more or less gotten bored and moved on, the worst getting expelled for their ‘behavioural problems’, some growing up and learning to be civil and the rest just ignoring him all together.

That didn’t mean their past words and punches didn’t still hurt him in the present, or that even when surrounded by people he didn’t feel lonelier than ever. Sure, he considered some kids friends but the problem was that even his closest friends were closer to others than they ever would be to Frank.

Frank was a background friend, always there but never truly noticed, spending his life simply going through the motions, silently wishing for something more but unsure what exactly. Turn up at school, go to lessons, stare at the clock willing it to hurry up and tick faster, sit at the lunch table with his ‘friends’ subconsciously on edge in case he needed to defend himself like the old days, then head home again. But no one would really notice if he stopped and most days he came home somewhat bitter, lonely and tired from the whole experience. And this day was no different.

He trudged upstairs and threw his bag on the floor next to his bed, continuing his wearisome routine. As usual, he had overdue homework, and it was easier to get on with it the moment he arrived home, because if he dared poke his head above the murky waters and question what he was doing, he knew there would be no chance of the assignment getting finished that night, even if all this school work was hardly good for his mental health.

After a couple of hours of pretending to focus and bullshitting an essay he had never understood in the first place, he settled on an ‘it’ll do’ and pushed the loose sheets into a rough pile at the side of his desk, somewhat relieved he could now spend the rest of the night numbing his mind with whatever he saw fit.

He decided to go downstairs and grab food, his mom sat on the worn leather sofa watching television with her own dinner already in hand. She informed him where she’d put aside frank’s vegan portions and told him all he had to do was put it in the microwave for a few minutes, dish it up and come and join her.

As Frank hovered in the kitchen, clattering plates, he could hear the news report on telly echo through the paper thin walls. It was the usual stuff, celebrity gossip, politics and of course depressing crime and loss of life. That night the local news reader described the body of a young woman found dead in the early hours of the morning behind a newark takeaway with broken bones and deep lacerations through her neck and abdomen. The only indication she hadn’t just been mistakenly mauled by a feral animal was the fact her heart had been delicately removed by the murderer.

So that’s where the police cars had been headed that morning, frank concluded.

He felt a bit sick as he looked at his sad slab of soya meat, sat with soggy rice, beans and a side salad from a plastic bag.

Truth be told, Frank was an empath despite his guarding front, and when he heard news like this he struggled to fathom how such evil and suffering existed on the very streets he walked everyday.

As he sat down and picked at his meal, and his mom flipped the channel to some reality show, the words of the report lingered in his head. His mind wandered back to the night before and wondered if he could’ve walked straight past her getting attacked. Or if the man who’d near choked him against the wall was the same man who’d murdered this woman.

Frank mulled it over, the murder sounded like an act of passion, a boyfriend wanting to get revenge on his ex or a stranger driven by a sick sexual fantasy. Could the man with the twisted olive eyes have committed it? Could frank have been his first target, until something changed? He wasn’t sure, but for his sanity, he concluded they were probably unrelated.

***

While the sun set over the new jersey horizon, Gerard Way stirred from his slumber. He lay curled into a tight ball in a nook on the first floor roof of a laundromat, the building jutting out above protecting him from the elements and providing shelter from the light of day. This was the closest thing he had to a home.

As he woke he felt more alive than he had in weeks, the pastel half moon peeking over the azure horizon was intoxicating, he needed nightfall like he needed life itself and finally he had the necessary blood to carry it through his undead body. Though, that blood drained from his face when he cast his mind back to the previous night and remembered what it had cost. And he regretted ever waking up in the first place.

Usually, his self selected vampire family on the streets did the necessary dirty work. Though at it for nearly 6 years now, Gerard was the newest to this life and as he staggered through the concrete jungle barely out of transition, a coven had taken pity on him, taken him in and showed him the ropes. He only grew closer and more respected as he began dating one of the most infamous vampires of the town, Bert McCracken. Hundreds of years old but his body barely a day over 21, he had raised Gerard, forgiven him for crimes no one else ever could, defended him in every fight, showed him soul crushing realities but with a smile on his face, entrancing Gerard with the magic of sex, love and living every day as if were their last even though they knew they had eternity together.

Or so Gerard thought.

A month previous, in a flurry of rumours, anger and heartache, Bert pulled the floor from underneath him, and he was once again left to fend for himself. But this time with the wrath of half the vampires of new jersey waiting for him.

It hurt like hell.

Gerard missed him, pining for his mate almost as hard as he pined for his family at 16. But with every day that went by, his animal instincts grew stronger and the new chapter of his life needed some poor soul to write it, so he pushed the pain to the back of his stale brain and began his fight to survive on his own.

Vampires need human blood every day or 2 to survive. It’s not that they’ll die without it, immortal beings don’t just die like mortals do. Instead, they descend into a desperate madness, a fragile spirit in a decaying carcass no more cognizant than the rabid dogs they now imitate.

So naturally obtaining this blood was the top of Gerard’s priorities.

Initially he tried to do it morally, his DNA had been rewritten as that of a monsters but he was going to take its deadly instructions and turn them into something honorable, as long as he had the faculties to do so. He had to kill a human, that was non negotiable. But he couldn’t do it like he had before again. He could never kill like *that* again.

He spend the first few nights of city solitude people watching, observing his prey unknowingly wandering through his snagged stomping grounds, looking for the perfect human to strike. He wouldn’t take a child. Or a young adult for that matter. They had too much living left to do. He wouldn’t take an elderly person, though it made sense since they would be dying sooner anyway, he would feel terrible preying on someone with no chance of fighting back and beside old people blood was like drain water. He needed someone middle aged maybe, old enough to have lived but young enough to give him the nutrients he needed and maybe the illusion their death had been a fair fight. Ideally, he’d pick a pedophile or violent criminal, someone who was a stain on society that no one would miss. No one deserved the fate Gerard would inflict, but since it was happening regardless, he wanted to pick a person who didn’t deserve it least.

First, as he grew hungry, he’d stalked one of the old druggie dudes who kipped sat upright in the 24 hour McDonalds until staff kicked him out at 5am, before the sun had risen. He was probably suicidal anyway, Gerard justified, he was probably doing the man a favour.

But as Gerard cornered him, watching him chuckle into a cigarette and lay down his cardboard he knew he just couldn’t kill this man. Though obscured by lord knows what substances, he still had a flicker behind his eyes, he was still trying to survive. In reality, the only time there would be no hope for him was if Gerard himself took it, and there was no way he was doing that. So he pushed the murderous thoughts out his mind and ran back to his enclave hoping he could suppress his urges another day, until he found the perfect victim.

Strangely, ‘the perfect victim’ is actually difficult to find when the crime is murder. Evil people tend not to walk around with signs on their forehead stating such, and everyone Gerard approached seemed to show a redeeming quality at the last moment causing the vampire to back out. The woman screeching profanities across the street at her shell of a boyfriend at 1am had a passion Gerard couldn’t snuff out even if it was misplaced. The likely schizophrenic seemingly straddling the border of 2 realities, had a gentle disposition when he wasn’t lashing out in fear. And the assholes jeering as they stumbled out a bar would regret their actions when they woke up the next morning, they didn’t need to be *killed*.

However, every ‘option’ Gerard passed up made him only hungrier and more desperate. And he felt himself spiralling into a fuck up, and he was too dead inside to care. He tried to fight it, he tried so much, but that late January night, he lost himself.

When the vampire saw a stocky male with a frown on his face and fists balled in his pockets stomping through the side street below, his animalistic form was already in motion, no time to think about his actions or make room for doubts. He needed this.

He only realised what had happened as he stood there gripping the kids throat ready to take a bite. Except suddenly he wasn’t hungry. Well, he was but not for the punk pinned on the wall in front of him (at least, not in that way). There was something off. It was like the blood he could see coursing through those arteries in fear was repelling him. There was nothing in those cells for him.

He damn near broke down.

He was so desperate, he just wanted the nutrients he needed and this nightmare to be over for a few days, yet suddenly he felt like he’d had a freezer spell cast on him. He had never experienced anything like this before. He began to wrestle with the other side of his soul, clinging to any rationality he could find and trying not to hurt the boy he was ready to devour moments prior. Gerard saw the fear and confusion in his wide hazel eyes and it made him feel something in the fiery pit of manic desire that was consuming him.

It made no sense. Was the dude a vampire as well? He couldn’t be, Gerard would’ve smelt it and the man would’ve annihilated him by this point. Was Gerard attracted to him, did that somehow affect his ability to kill? He’d never heard of that happening, but then everyday he learned new things about life as a vampire and none of them surprised him anymore. Or did the kid have some kind of medical condition that rendered his blood unsuitable? And then he discovered he was vegan, probably giving himself deficiencies and blood not even a vampire could drink. That must’ve been it. 

Gerard couldn’t really remember how their interaction ended, he remembered the kid started getting cocky and himself apologising and begging not to be ratted out.

Maybe, he would’ve stayed and chatted with the human. He had good fashion sense and maybe his diet meant Gerard would be capable of his first friendship with a human since he got turned. Deep down, he missed being close to humans.

However, the entire exchange had only made Gerard more feral. He’d lied to his body, convinced it it was about to finally receive nourishment no matter what, only to reject it. His instincts had had enough of being ignored and now, what little control he had over them was slipping from his finger tips.

He was not human, he was a vampire. He was a monster. And he was the hungriest he had ever been.

The moment a young woman, not much older than a teenager, with bouncing blonde hair and a slight smile on her face stepped a wobbly, likely tipsy from whatever event she was walking home from, foot in Gerard’s territory he pounced. She shrieked as he sunk his fangs into her flesh, kicking and fighting back but Gerard silenced her fighting back harder with the power of a viscous tiger. But after a few moments of struggle her body went limp, a few muscles twitching until she fell still, eyes closed head flopping onto the vampires.

Her blood tasted incredible, slowly filling him with strength and sanity straight from the source. It was rich with substance, but metallic and smooth without a single clot.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, in a daze. The realisation of what was happening began to bubble up inside him the moment the blood entered his system and he started feeling close to himself again, but he couldn’t let it. Not then. It was already too late.

Gerard was far too weak to be turn her at this point, but he had to be sure. Once he emptied her circulatory system, drinking a lot of the blood and storing the rest in beakers, he tugged a single sharp canine down her chest, tearing through layers of clothing, and then layers of skin. At which point he snapped open her rib cage through the middle, the bones breaking like porcelain.

He had forgotten how weak humans were. Or how strong he had become.

Afraid to look at the sight he’d created, he held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut and he dipped a hand into her open chest. As he felt around for the moist fibrous tissue that made up her heart, he felt like he was about to throw up. 

He could smell her blood. Her flesh. Her death. And it was no longer appetizing, it was revolting. It was eternal shame, suffering and devastation at his hands. But he had to push on.

Eventually, her heart broke free, more of the precious scarlet liquid draining through his fingers as he held it tight.

And he ran.

And he crashed, into the corner he called home.

He sobbed as he squeezed the remaining blood from her heart into another beaker, eventually tucking everything away behind a slab of concrete next to where he slept.

He lay still. He could feel the blood rejuvenating him from the inside out. He usually loved the feeling, but tonight it made his skin crawl, consumed by images of the sick crime he had committed, the anguish contorting inside and the choked sobs he cried into the night in response.

Although, he could still hardly put a coherent thought together. That would come in time, though, he knew.

As he drifted off to sleep in the morning he heard a terrified wail and sirens, but maybe he was just hearing things or even made the whole thing up. Or made it sound so much worse in his mind.

When Gerard woke up under indigo skies the next evening he knew the truth. He felt the truth.

He finally felt like himself again.

He knew what that meant.

He had fucked up.

All he had were fractured flashes of memories, but that was too much. He ran his hands through his black hair digging his sharp claws into his scalp in agitation.

He never meant for this to happen, he was supposed to have killed a criminal, do something good for society for once. But instead he murdered an innocent teen girl. The images of parents breaking down as they identified her body, a small frame in a body bag being carried away from the scene, any siblings she had gazing at the box their sister was in wondering when she was going to join them, invaded his every cognition.

How had he let himself get so out of control he was violently attacking random people no older than himself?

He was so fucking sorry. He picked up the cool flesh next to him and yearned to turn back time, magically put her heart back beating in her body and get the blood elsewhere.

Or further, turn back time to before he even turned and just let himself die instead.

He was a monster. He was evil. He was everything he had ever hated.

He was ‘the perfect victim’.

However, as if the universe was trying to torture it’s people, vampires cannot commit suicide. Someone else has to kill them. And even his newfound enemies wouldn’t kill Gerard. They wanted to see him suffer. They encouraged the havoc he wreaked.

Gerard was alone.

Alive with no choice in the matter.

A real life monster.

But he knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey this chapter ended up taking twice as long to write twice and twice the amount of gorey liveleak videos in a failed attempt to accurately depict the injuries the girl would sustain than i expected and ended up being twice as long twice as rushed and twice as shitty as expected.
> 
> anyway, it’s here, i hope you enjoyed it and hope you’re having a good holiday season.
> 
> ps. i just went back and read the dove keeper for the first time since 2016 and this time finally finished it, and it honestly changed me so everyone say thank u evelyn for the fact i had the motivation to actually write and post this chapter.
> 
> much love, always <3


	3. graveyard date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry this took so long but honestly i have no excuse. i could argue that i was preoccupied by mcr’s cryptic uk shit, since in case you haven’t noticed from my flawed depictions of the us, i’m british. but the truth is i’m just really shit at being consistent so when ever i’m supposed to focus on one project i get sidetracked by a ton of dumb shit including clinical depression lol

“As some of you may have heard, this morning we received the devastating news of the passing of Newark High’s own - Nicola Johnson.” the principals words pierced the suspense that hung in the musty air of Frank’s school’s auditorium like bullets. For the first time in his nearly 4 years at the hellhole, the school was silent for assembly. The only noise was the sniffles and stifled cries of teachers and peers echoing through the hall, and the occasional tip tap of high heels outside.

It was surreal.

Frank hadn’t known the girl. She was in his year, sure, but it was a big school with hundreds of kids in each year, and Frank put his effort into avoiding each one, not getting to know them. Nonetheless, when he found out the body he’d heard on the news was a girl his age he walked the same corridors as, he felt something inside him drop.

The principal rambled through a shaky description of how much of a good student she was, how loved by the community she was, how horrific a tragedy this was, how missed she’ll be and so on. It sort of blurred into one for Frank. At one point, a policeman stepped onstage urging anyone who had any information on her movements before her death or who had seen anything suspicious that night to come forward. Frank kept his mouth shut, if he was going to say anything it wouldn’t be dramatically standing up in the middle of assembly like an attention seeking ex interrupting a wedding when the priest tells you to speak now or forever hold your peace. Eventually the principal returned, mentioned the proposed location of the funeral, the fact the entire schools invited and where to find more info as the family make arrangements, and then the bell rang.

Frank debated whether he would say something as he filed out the assembly hall with the hoards of students. Grief seemed to ooze from everyones pores, alongside the usual sweat and lynx deodorant. If he squinted, he could almost pretend it was just a tragic accident, or even that nothing had happened at all and everyone was just bitter because a deadline had been moved forward or a much loved teacher was changing jobs. But no, this was different, and the whispered conspiracy theories, police presence and students who knew her constantly being pulled aside for ’a word’ didn’t let him forget that.

He tried to put the aggressive black haired man to the back of his head, but it wasn’t working. What if he was her killer? If Frank had done something about him would she would still be here now? However, he wasn’t certain and he didn’t know what the mans motive was. He remembered how his attacker said Frank wasn’t the person he was looking for, how on earth would Nicola be his target? She slept around a little sure, but she was harmless. Frank didn’t know exactly what shady shit the man was part of, but he couldn’t imagine the girl who constantly got awards for her dedicated work in the volleyball team would be involved. And truthfully, Frank didn’t want to get involved either. He remembered the mans face and could give the police a damn good description if he wanted to - medium height, long black hair poking out of a hoodie, pale round face, thick brows, wide cheekbones, green-ey hazel eyes depending on the way the amber streetlight hit them, a strong build that Frank knew really wasn’t the muscle the man probably wanted him to believe, a dash of humanity in a supposed ‘monster’, a lopsided smile that somehow still showed when he had his face scrunched up doing that angry thing, after all, as intimidating as he tried to be in the moment the more Frank thought about him the more he seemed to resemble a cute dog barking at a noise outside, and nothing more.

No. Frank couldn’t be having thoughts like this and he couldn’t rat him out either. Regardless of if the man had anything to do with Nicola, he was clearly dangerous and unstable. And people like that, you don’t wanna mess with. If Frank snitched and word got out, which it always does, he’d have a grave dug in the woods and 15 of the mans friends on his ass ready to dump him in it before sunrise. Then again, he kinda liked that idea. He didn’t want to live in a world this fucked up anyway, death by strangely attractive madman and his gangster friends was pretty appealing. Man, he could be fully decomposed by finals.

As he turned into math class, Frank could almost feel the eyes of the policeman walking past drilling a hole in his skull, and he filled with guilt at the thoughts he was having and the secrets he was keeping.

He forced a half assed smile at his ‘friends’ and sat down at his desk chucking his bag on the floor.

“You going?” Pete asked from behind him, snapping him into reality.

“What?” Frank responded, turning round in his seat.

Pete was far more popular than Frank would ever be and was usually busy chatting with his own, better friends, but they shared the same vertical challenges, chronically questionable serotonin levels and of course love for music, so always had a sense of comradery.

“Are you going to Nic’s funeral? I hardly knew her and no one else wants to go, but I’m considering it.” Pete clarified, eyes looking a little water logged, but that might’ve just been the weed he’d probably just smoked.

“Ohh. I don’t know. We don’t even know when it is yet.” Frank breathed.

That was another thing he needed to think about - the funeral.

Apparently the whole school was invited, and Frank felt somewhat compelled to go. After all, if it was his attacker who killed her, he could’ve been the one having a post mortem right about now. In a way, he was responsible for her death. If he had actually done something instead of running away crying like a fucking baby, maybe the man wouldn’t have been able to kill Nicola. If this was his fault, regardless of how little he knew her, he owed it to her to do something, pay his respects somehow. Then again, if this was his fault he wasn’t sure he’d be welcome at the funeral anyway. His stomach knotted and he didn’t know what to do. And now, of course, in class, his eyes decide to feel a little waterlogged too.

“Yeah. Her family are making a Facebook event for it so once the dates confirmed, they’ll update on there. God, the family, the poor family.” Pete trailed off.

“I know. It’s so fucked up” Frank offered.

“Why do kids keep getting killed?” Pete murmured, casting his mind back. Frank didn’t know much, but he was one of the few who knew he had lost his childhood best friend in a similar fashion sometime in middle school.

“I don’t know” Frank replied. Then barely audibly and hidden in a sarcastic tone “Hope I’m next.”

***

2 weeks later, Frank and Pete found themselves smoking a joint in a graveyard at night. It wasn’t as weird as it sounds, they promised.

The investigation into the murder was well underway, but had already seemingly gone cold. The police had found inconclusive fingerprints, some human DNA and some inconclusive DNA, but not a single person they’d brought in was a match, and they were out of new leads. No murder weapon was found, no footprints, no witnesses, no suspects. And bizarrely, the heart was still missing and at this point they doubted it would ever be found.

Frank had decided he wasn’t going to mention his attack. He had intensely considered it, but his anxiety got the better of him every time he picked up his phone to dial the infoline for the case. By this point, so much time had passed it would just look suspicious to report something now.

Besides, he didn’t want to get involved unless he wanted his ass handed back to him on a plate. Sure, he liked the idea of being beat to death by vengeful criminals, but when he finally did die, he wanted it to be on his own terms. Plus, he had an irrational fear that if he said something, he would be inserting himself into the case and become a suspect himself. If the man did commit the murder right after attacking Frank, Frank’s DNA could’ve been on him at the time. Maybe, he was the extra inconclusive DNA found on the body - and if he went in to give evidence, maybe they would force him into giving fingerprints and DNA as a precaution and maybe it would somehow make the inconclusive DNA conclusive. He knew that was probably impossible, but he didn’t want to risk it. He was going to keep his head down and stay completely uninvolved in the investigation.

He had considered telling someone just to get the weight of his chest, maybe Pete? His therapist? His mom if he wanted to go all out. But he knew that would only open up more problems for him, everyone he could think of would pressure him into reporting it and he couldn’t trust them not to blab when he inevitably said no.

Pete and Frank had got closer though. Pete was far more affected by the murder than he let on - it hit close to home for him, and Frank was the only one who listened and seemed to understand. Moreover, they were the only two in their friendship group considering going to the funeral, which forced them to send messages to one another outside the group chat to make plans.

Which is how they found themselves in near pitch black darkness, sat leaning against a cold chapel and looking out at the silhouettes of gravestones illuminated only by the ghosts of the streetlights round the corner and Pete’s cigarette light. A few metres away was a hole, waiting to be filled by 18 year old Nicola the next day.

Frank had been veering towards not going to the funeral, but he still wanted to pay his respects somehow, so when Pete suggested they visit the church afterschool the day before and take some time there themselves to decide, he happily obliged. Plus, he felt far less anxious going to new places if he had already visited them beforehand and felt out the venue. And if he still didn’t go, school was cancelled all day regardless, so Frank could try to somewhat get his emotions out and do something for Nicola that night, then get through the next day in bed, if all goes to plan, dead to the world.

Frank shivered. He felt a little sick and lightheaded but put it down to the weed - when did he become such a lightweight? Pete was talking to him, but he was hardly listening, fixated on the shadows dancing through the night. Being born on halloween and having a penchant for all things horror, a simple graveyard didn’t usually phase him, but with the streets emptying, the clock ticking past his ideal bedtime and thc in his system everything took on a different energy. Time moved slower, the glimpses of movement in his peripheries grew stronger and the trees in the distant looked more human than ever. He was sure they were being watched.

“Frank?” Pete interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh sorry yeah” Frank replied quickly, half assing an act that he’d actually been listening.

“So you coming?” Pete clarified “We can come back here after, I won’t be long. I just feel weird being here and not seeing him”

“Oh sure, yeah that’s fine” Frank murmured. Pete stood up, dusting himself off and reached out a hand to pull him up. As soon as Frank was upright, he watched his vision go black, felt his blood pool in his feet and hoped he wouldn’t pass out - not that he ever had before.

Pete switched on the torch on his phone, lighting up the ground with white light, casting contrasting black shadow animations across the earth.

“I forgot where it is exactly, but I think it’s somewhere on this side” Pete pointed and they began stepping through the weeds in that direction, avoiding any graves.

The graveyard was empty other than the 2 of them, and they both walked with baited breath, jumping every time a twig snapped or an animal made a noise. 

In the direction they were walking one of the shadows Frank was watching seemed to morph into a hooded figure. He stepped closer to Pete, heart rate rising.

It walked in their direction, although it moved more like it was hovering just above the ground.

As Frank felt his blood run cold, he realised Pete had stopped walking, staring off in the same direction.

“Don’t worry, it’s just someone visiting a grave or something” Frank put on a brave front, forcing himself back into logical train of thought.

“I know, I wasn’t worried” Pete chuckled.

“Me neither, just making sure”

They both knew they both were in fact very worried, but they would never let that on to one another.

Frank kept his head down as he realised the person in the distance wasn’t quite in the distance and was going to be walking past them on the same path within seconds.

“Hey” Pete blurted out to the stranger “I know you from somewhere! You look familiar”

“Do you?” a nasally voice replied, a little awkwardly.

Frank’s head shot up. He knew that voice. Holy shit, did he know that voice.

He was met with the same face that was centimetres from his just a few weeks prior, ready to strangle him to death. His posture was different but it was the same hoodie, same face, same man.

Frank’s heart stopped, his veins electrified, his legs jelly and rooted to the spot. His mouth was dry, from pure fear now.

“Yeah, definitely. What school do you go to?”

“I know him.” Frank finally choked out, interrupting Pete. “I know him.”

“Yeah, you do.” The man in front smiled “You’re the vegan kid, ain’t you?”

Frank nodded.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, after a while. He wanted to talk to the man and find out exactly what was going on without Pete listening in, but he never wanted to be left alone with the fucker again.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m genuinely really sorry. You should’ve never have- uh -seen that, kid. I never meant for any of that to happen.” The man admitted, looking away in shame.

Frank watched him, the man seemed sincere and wildly different to how they’d met before. It was like a different soul in the same body, and he wondered if maybe he had been exaggerating his behaviour in his memories.

But no, this was the guy who had him pinned against the wall by his throat, the guy Frank suspected to be a cold blooded murderer, in the graveyard the victim of said murder was going to be buried the very next day. He should be calling the cops.

Pete looked between the 2 other men, a puzzled look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Frank spat.

“Just visiting someone I love, and uh-“ The man hesitated. “Making things right. You?”

Again, Frank was speechless. Pete was mouthing something at him, probably ‘Who’s this?’ or ‘What’s going on?’.

“Making things right?” Frank repeated back to him in disgust “You- You-“

He wanted to say ‘You killed her’ but his muscles refused to form the words.

Anger, confusion and terror bubbled up inside him. He want to fight and flee at the same time, yet all he could do was freeze.

“How do you know Frank?” Pete snapped eventually, sensing Frank’s reaction and trying and failing to stand taller and look stronger than he truly was “How do I know you?”

“I don’t know. I met Frank-“ he glanced at him for confirmation. Frank cursed Pete for giving out his name. “I bumped into Frank last month, not a good place or time. He met me when I was pretty- uh- out of it. Think I gave him a bit of a fright.”

Pete looked to Frank for confirmation. He hummed.

“Feel that. We’ve all been there” Pete offered.

“Thanks. I’ve actually been meaning to find Frank and apologise for getting so out of control but I’ve had no way to”

For some stupid reason, Frank felt himself blush. It meant something to him that this guy was thinking of him and at least remorseful, he knew drugs (or whatever shit had made him ‘out of it’) could do crazy things to a person and make a person do crazy things.

“’ppreciate it.”

Frank decided he was going to observe for a little longer before he jumped to any conclusions.

“Great! That still doesn’t answer where I know you from, though. Damn, this is gonna keep me up at night, what school do you go to?” Pete piped up.

“I’ve not been to school for fucking years. I really look school aged huh?” The man chuckled.

“Sorry bro, I’m shit with ages.”

“Nah, you’re good. I went Belleville High, if that means anything to you.”

“Oh I know there, but we go Newark High” Pete replied, perplexed. “Where do you work?”

“Unemployed”

“Ah shit. You been to any parties recently?”

“Nah, I don’t *party* as such anymore.”

“Damn. I swear I know you from somewhere, this is gonna drive me insane” Pete sighed.

“Weird.” the man turned his attention “Are you alright, Frank?”

“Fine” he muttered.

“You look pale. I’m telling you, you’re anemic. That or some other deficiency.”

Frank thought on it, the blood did drain from him every time he stood up, but he was a stubborn fucker and was going to deny it through his teeth purely because of who was suggesting it.

“No I’m not” he protested.

“You do look a little pale” Pete agreed with the man, blinding Frank as he shone his phone light in his face “Then again, you’re high as fuck in a graveyard at night, you would be pale”

“What *are* you doing high in a graveyard at night?” the man asked, amused.

“It’s actually pretty sad. A girl in our year got murdered a few weeks ago, her funerals tomorrow. We wanted to come here tonight, smoke up in her memory and that” Pete explained.

“You knew her?” The man gasped, eyes widening “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, we weren’t very close to her at all. Just hits harder when it’s someone at your own school” Pete murmured.

Frank stared at the man. He looked guilty. Frank had been ready to drop the thoughts of him being a murderer the moment he started getting all apologetic. But, how did he know who ‘she’ was? Why was he apologising again now? Obviously, he could’ve just been giving the customary ‘I’m sorry’ everyone gives in situations like this, but Frank couldn’t be sure.

“Did you know her?” Frank asked.

“Not really, no” the man shook his head.

“Not really?” Frank pushed.

“I met her once”

“Like you met me?”

“No!”

Frank stared daggers at him.

“Well kinda.” The man added.

Frank exhaled. The man killed her. The man fucking killed her after attacking him, it was staring him in the face. He needed to call the cops, but a weird part of him wanted to hear his side.

“Are you going to the funeral?” He asked instead.

“I’m not sure”

“Me neither” Frank replied, he wasn’t sure where it was coming from but confidence was building inside him “I’ll go if you go”

“O-okay” the man cocked his head.

“We need to sort this out” Frank stated.

“We do.”

“Sort what out?” Pete questioned.

“I’ll tell you later. We’re going home.” He commanded, practically dragging his friend towards the gates of the graveyard, refusing to look back at the murderer that stood feet away. “You can visit Mikey tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pete!! frerard reunion!!
> 
> what are our thoughts? pls feel free to suggest anything and lemme know what you like and don’t like, i’m in a really weird spot with this fic where i know exactly where i want it to go and have it all outlined, but i don’t know how to get there or how to write it. anyway, i hope this wasn’t too terrible and y’all don’t get bombed too hard when world war 3 breaks out love you <3


End file.
